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A few weeks ago, before the fit hit the shan with the car, we found a giant L-shaped wooden desk on Craigslist and bought it for the Tower.* It's a freaking behemoth of a desk - seriously, even in parts, we had to take two doors off their hinges just to get it up the high, narrow stairs into the Tower. Did I mention it was made of solid wood?

The owners helpfully took it apart for us and gave us the six or seven large pieces, umpteen drawers... and a bag full of hardware. No instructions.

Therefore we have been procrastinating for weeks. I helpfully delegated the task to Jimmy and the Spawn when I had to work a Sunday shift this weekend. I ain't no dummy.

ME: Thanks for the work you did on the desk. I imagine it took a while for you two to put it together.
JIMMY: Heh. Heh heh heh. Yeah.
ME:It's shiiiiiny. And now that you know how it goes together, you'll know how to take it apart when it comes time to move again!
JIMMY: ... No.
ME: What, we're never moving again…

Sure, it was kind of cute when she was hiding my shoes. Almost funny the way an earring missing since before we moved magically appeared on the kitchen floor in time for me to step on it. Jimmy's busted tire was no big deal. Less cute was the massive sewer backup which required our poor landlords to excavate and replace the sewer line.

But now my Toyota has a bad transmission. The initial quote is $1600. Yes, we're hunting around for a better deal and alternatives that might lower the price, but regardless, we have some serious cash to raise.

We're liquidating our vacation savings, my 401(k) and selling off whatever furniture and electronics we can. We're holding a tag sale in a few weeks. Jimmy is talking about getting a second job, which I hope won't be necessary.

What can I do? I have exactly one marketable skill. So I'm offering a free short story as-yet unseen by the public to anyon…

I am sitting on the couch in my half-unpacked living room, finally finished with work for the day. The cool March sunlight falls through the windows and makes warm patterns on the wood floor beside me. Schubert plays in the air and a light breeze wafts from the kitchen, where a window is open to dispel the smell of this morning's bacon.

The boys are outside, as they should be. Jimmy has the day off work, and the boy has been off all week for Spring Break. They went out earlier to buy supplies and get their Easter haircuts - they both look so handsome. They brought me back Reese's peanut butter cups and a Diet Coke, because they love me. Now they've gone to the park about a block away with fishing poles, where they will attempt to catch the poor hapless fish that survive in that pond and they will speak as men do. Or something.

Tonight we had planned to go to the Science Center for the Star Trek exhibit, since "Tribbles" author David Gerrold will be there. Money i…

As anyone who reads my Facebook knows, I moved recently. In fact, I've bored you all to tears with the details of my move, which allowed me and my partner to combine households in a lovely house with enough space for us and our kids. Best of all, at least as far as I was concerned: the attic was big enough for me to have my own office and library, for the first time since my son was born.

That means when I work from home several times a week, I have a place to work besides the kitchen table. It means a dedicated space for writing my brilliant novels. It means room enough for all my books, half of which live in boxes or are double-stacked on groaning Wal-mart shelves.

And it means space for a streamlined mail-order operation for the Literary Underworld, which has had to operate out of the corner of my dining nook until now. We'll be faster, more efficient and able to expand our operation with its own space.